


Celestial South

by norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, GFY, Gen, Silly, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: "I first came to Corellia on the trail of the killers of my father and, for reasons which don't need exploring at this juncture, I have remained, attached as liaison to the Jedi Temple."Just a typical case fic, the usual shenanigans you might find Fraser and Ray involved in (in a galaxy far, far away).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hearthdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hearthdragon/gifts).



> Hearthdragon requested a Star Wars due South fusion, and I'm afraid this is a little bit sillier than many due South episodes (though I did try to get in all the classics). I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I had initially planned this to be rather timeless, from no particular era of Star Wars, but then SOMEONE rudely insisted on a cameo and that kind of dates this to somewhere in the decade before the Clone Wars.
> 
> This could not have been completed without enthusiastic support, brainstorming, and help from Dogmatix, advice and reassurance from Alyyks, as well as massive cheerleading from Arwen00710 and MoreCivilizedAge -- thank you all!

**A second hand store, in the Outer Rim**

There were days when Vali Carn loved being on the Outer Rim, away from the Republic’s oppressive regulations and insistence that certain goods and chemical mixtures ought to be regulated.

Then there were days when she had a gundark amble into her shop, fanged snout gaping wide, knuckles on its larger, top set of arms dragging along the ground, the sharp claws on the smaller set underneath wriggling like it couldn’t wait to grasp something and rip it to shreds. It wasn’t red like she’d always seen on the holos, but instead a buff white and gray.

She didn’t even dare squeak.

The human-sized monster shoved the rest of the way in, the cheerful little chime on the door chirping uselessly as the gundark snuffled down the shelving, somehow not seeing the Twi’lek trembling behind her useless waist-high counter. Vali could see a pointed ear flick back as the door chimed again, only this time she almost collapsed in relief. She had no idea what a Jedi was doing in her little shop, with its mostly legal goods except for that one small room in the back, but she wasn’t about to argue.

He was human, dark haired with blue eyes and a polite smile. “Ma’am,” he declared. “We won’t be just a moment.” He stepped further inside, holding the door wide for another being to sidle in.

He was a Zabrak, with horns poking through blond, spiky hair going in every direction, paler blue eyes than the human, and the loose posture that matched the smuggler’s gear he wore. The ostentatious blaster strapped to his thigh made the holdout pistol Vali had under the counter look like a toy. “Fraser, you can’t just do this all casual-like.”

“Of course we can, Ray.” Somehow, the Jedi managed to sound reassuring instead of patronizing, and it looked like a genuine smile for his friend. “There’s nothing in local or even planetary ordinances about us taking a look around.”

Vali managed to lift her arm enough to point at the gundark, which seemed oblivious to the armed men behind it as it continued to snuffle down the aisle. “Tha – that’s a gundark!”

The Jedi leaned in a little closer, still with that polite smile. “ _Half_ -gundark, actually,” he corrected. He straightened, his coarse but vibrantly red tunics seeming to light up half the shop.

It was all so odd Vali could only manage to ask a faint question. “What’s the other half?” She’d never _seen_ a gundark in the flesh before, so – The Jedi didn’t seem surprised, or even bothered. The smuggler or pirate or whatever he was seemed just as casual, rolling his eyes a little. 

The Jedi’s expression melted into a faint frown that was just as polite as his smile, and he leaned in closer than he had before. “I’ve never asked,” he admitted, voice soft as if he were concerned that the gundark might hear. “It’s a rather rude question, don’t you think?” Before she could come up with some kind of answer, he nodded and turned back to the gundark, moving silent and swift to get closer to it. “What did you find, Dief?” 

“What – ” Vali looked over at the smuggler, not sure what was going on or if she was hallucinating in the first place. “That’s – ”

The smuggler nodded, a touch sympathetic. “Jedi following a gundark. Through your shop. They do that.”

“Jedi?” Vali managed, voice faint and wobbling as the gundark headed right towards the false wall leading to her more illicit goods. 

“No, just them.” The smuggler jerked a thumb towards the two as the Jedi frowned, then gestured some with empty hands. The concealed door popped open, and the Jedi stuck his head in, peering around before turning and marching over. His tan cloak billowed behind him.

“Ma’am, as a Jedi Knight I’m afraid I don’t have jurisdiction on this planet, but you ought to know that some scoundrel has been storing a highly dangerous brand of Spice in your back room. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Vali gulped, staring at the Jedi. He – he didn’t seem to be mocking her, and Judicial certainly wouldn’t play games like this.

She also dealt with stolen goods – but Spice was far too dangerous a commodity. Someone was playing her. “I...suppose I have some time, ah...”

The man bowed. “Thank you kindly. I’m Jedi Knight Benton Fraser.” He straightened and gestured to the smuggler. “This is Jedi Knight Ray Vecchio.” 

The blond man was giving her a casual half-salute, but at Vali’s incredulous look he shrugged. “I’m from Corellia,” he said. It wasn’t clear if it was a deadpan and he was mocking her, or if he was used to the question. She... _had_ heard about Corellian Jedi. They were the ones most likely to be portrayed in porn, though she had never wondered _why_. 

“And that’s Diefenbaker.” Vali blinked and looked at Jedi Fraser, wondering what he was talking about.

He was motioning towards the gundark, which was _looking at her_. It let out a bit of a bass whine, head tilting to give her a better view of fangs. 

Vali squeaked and took a step back. “Is...is it going to be here for these questions?”

“Ah, good point.” Knight Fraser turned to face the gundark. “Dief, please wait outside.” Despite Vali’s fears, the creature didn’t even whine as it obeyed. Knight Fraser smiled as he turned back to her. “He’s deaf, and I’m afraid he gets terribly bored during conversations he might not be able to follow.”

Vali looked over at Knight Vecchio, who shrugged again. “He sure doesn’t listen to me.” 

* * *

Fraser was doin’ the thing again. Ray always had trouble getting his head around it, how the Jedi could play stupid but he _knew_ things, maybe it was the Force whispering juju into his ear or maybe it was just that Fraser really was the nicest being this side of Alderaan – 

aaaand he’d been repeating Ray’s name again. The Zabrak swung back around to the tune of “Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray.” what stopped when he took the left turn where he’d made a right.

“C’mon, if her intel’s accurate then Triask is probably still trying to unload spice. Let’s get to that scumbag at the spaceport,” Ray grumbled, privately grateful that like always, Fraser didn’t say anything about the course correction. Dief was giving him the sideeye, but by now Ray was immune to gundark scorn.

Mostly.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Fraser said, in the straightforward way which meant that he was once again being one helluva troll or Jedi levels of innocent.

“You _know_ she had smuggled goods back in there.”

“Well, yes, but everyone has to make a living, Ray. The tariffs on-planet are just absurd when the Hutts – ”

“Yeah, I don’t care. That’s _contraband_ you ignored back there.”

“She really didn’t know she was a middleman for the spice.”

Ray shot Fraser a glare, but this time he got the earnest ‘no, really’ look. “You could feel it in the Force?”

“No, but angry-surprised lekku movements are very distinctive, especially when the person is trying to cover them up.” Ray grunted, not sure what to say to that. He’d known she was lying too, but it was more the posture, the scared bunny glances around for a gettaway. “I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you, though.”

Dammit. Ray clenched his jaw, running a hand up through his horns. He hated having to admit to this stuff, and he was pretty sure Knight Benton Fraser of the Jedi Order knew it. Could probably read it off his brain easier than finding freakin’ lekku movements. “It – I just – Look, I got a bad feeling about this, ok?” 

Fraser slowed down a little, with the frown that meant he was seriously considering things. “Oh. Oh dear. I was hoping it was just me.”

Ray bit back a groan. Jedi.

* * *

There were times when Ray longed for the simple days before he got involved with Jedi. He _used_ to be a simple member of Judicial, plain old ordinary Corellian baseline Zabrak. Sure, he knew Jedi were in and out of headquarters often enough. The Corellian Temple was supposed to be all mavericks and loons or something, but Ray didn’t care. He just did his detecting and keeping the peace and trying to live his life.

Then the Temple’s Peacekeepers came knocking on his door, yammering about similar Force signatures and Sith and one of the _stupidest_ plans Ray had ever heard of – 

Until he met Benton Fraser, but he was in a class _aaalllll_ his own. 

It was Judicial’s fault. Some Jedi was a dead ringer for a nasty bastard that worked for the Hutts. Judicial needed that Jedi to go undercover as Armando “The Bookman” Langoustini (still a dumb name, but Ray had seen some of the Bookman’s work. Scary dude with a dumb name). But since Ray’s life wasn’t enough of a holodrama, they needed someone to masquerade as Jedi Knight Vecchio.

They looked _nothing_ alike. They both at least went by Ray, which meant that he wasn’t due to get confused about what to respond to. It seemed that to the Jedi, the most important thing was that there was a similar Force presence, and since there were Sith troubles in Vecchio’s history or something, that was necessary.

So Ray earned himself a temporary lightsaber (and thankfully some basic lessons in using it), a new position as Jedi Liaison – weirdly, the position already existed, but with a whole different department – and the unexpected bonus of a demented Outer Rim Jedi partner that no one had bothered to tell there was an ongoing undercover operation.

The few days of Fraser trying to prove that Stanley “Ray” Kowalski – ordinary Zabrak – was not Ray Vecchio – Force sensitive _human_ – had been hilarious, right up until the speeder ended up on fire. 

Fun times.

Ray was more used to Fraser’s particular brand of weird and crazy by now, but at times, he had to wonder if Vecchio had resented the undercover op, or been happy for a little bit of normal in his life.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

“Ahhh, my very good friend Armando!!”

The lean human with dark hair slicked back from an already high forehead sneered. “That’s still Langoustini to you, Hondo. The fuck are my goods?”

Hondo Ohnaka drew back, looking offended. “Your goods are on their way! There was just a little trouble with some Jedi – ”

“Do I _look_ like I give the tiniest Jawa shit? You don’t cross the Bookman, Hondo!”

“Oh, no no no, I would never dream of that!” Hondo pulled back from the blaster the Hutt operative drew on him. “Then again, I might admit to maybe a little fantasy sequence once in awhile. No need to get angry about that.”

“Do _not_ make my day more annoying.”

Hondo tsk’ed and shook his head. “Do I look like I would ever do such a thing?”

* * *

**Back in the Outer Rim**

Ray hopped out of the speeder, not really paying attention to Fraser lecturing Dief about staying with the speeder this time. Dief did what Dief wanted, for all that thank goodness most of the time that either lined up with what Fraser wanted, or what would save their bacon.

The rest of the time, they had a grumpy, maybe-deaf gundark on their hands.

Life around Fraser was never boring.

They’d agreed to split up because they had a lot of ground to investigate, and one Bothan by the name of Triask to find.

An hour later, Ray had seen way more of the spaceport than he wanted, especially with as little results as he had. It was good odds that the sketchy holoprojector salesman they were looking for had beat feet, but they could still find out something useful.

In theory.

Ray was sauntering down a quieter section of warehouses only to stop at the sound of blasters powering up behind him.

“Don’t move, Jedi,” someone growled. Ray obligingly spread his hands a little, making it clear he was unarmed. Ow. That got a blaster jabbed into his back. “I said don’t move!” Oh right. Force tricks to shove assholes. Ok, there were some days when Ray wished he could do things like that. It’d be convenient as all get out.

“Okay, okay, not moving,” he muttered. From the sounds of it, there were at least two, three people behind him, and one of them was moving around in front of Ray. It was a human, looking like he’d once got beat by an ugly stick. His looks weren’t helped by the fact that soon as he got a gander of Ray’s mug, he blinked and pulled back.

“Hey, you’re not Vecchio.”

Idiot could’ve seen Ray’s freakin’ _horns_ and he still thought – Ray kept his disgusted eyeroll internal, giving the idiot a cheerful, half-brainless grin. “Sure I am. Want me to recite my duty roster and the Jedi code for you?” Pfft. As if he hadn’t memorized that his first week undercover.

A different voice grumbled behind him. “Triask says he’s Vecchio, _he_ says he’s Vecchio – ”

“If he’s a Jedi, where’s his lightsaber?” a third voice asked, Rylothian accent turning the accusation almost musical. Ray got a swift, efficient patdown from Ugly Number One, which didn’t turn up anything beyond the usual small crap anyone would carry in their jacket pockets.

“Check his pants,” some bright bulb growled from behind Ray.

“Whoa, hey, easy there.” He did not want those idiots being even more stupid. “It’s in my boot. Where would you fellas keep your lightsaber?”

His joke fell a little flat as whoever had a blaster at his back ground the weapon a little deeper. “On display, like your friend.”

“Yeah, in case you haven’t noticed, red tunics. He stands out a lot. I like being a little more subtle.”

Ugly Number One bent down to check Ray’s right boot – which was the wrong foot in the first place, but that was so not Ray’s problem. Ray brought his knee up, crunching Ugly Number One’s nose. Ugly roared and stumbled back while whoever had the blaster jerked back at the sudden noise and movement. Ray spun around, getting a bit of extra momentum via boot to Ugly Number One’s head.

Quick little left-right, and the Gran what had been holding a blaster on him went down. Ray snatched up the blaster to get a nice shot lined up on goon number three.

Goon number three was a Twi’lek who was already firing a stun blast, a sweet little shot to Ray’s side what made him go down like a sack of sad bricks.

One of these days he was gonna have to have some words with Vecchio.

* * *

Something had gone wrong. Fraser knew it, on a level that was between ‘disturbance in the Force’ and ‘I know that sound, and last time it meant the speeder is going to explode in less than four minutes.’ Given that Ray didn’t answer the com meant something had probably happened to him, but it wasn’t as if he’d left a clear trail across his half of the spaceport – which was significantly sized in the first place.

It didn’t take him quite as long as he feared to pick up Ray’s Force presence – unconscious and liable to be crankier than usual when he did come to. The problem, of course, was that Ray looked to be located in a private storage facility presumably owned by one of the wealthier spaceport patrons. It could be anything from a company to an individual, or even the drug cartel they were looking to take down.

Given the amount of well-armed, overly-muscled individuals skulking around the place, along with the background aroma of the industrial cleaner most often used to cover up Spice, Fraser was willing to bet on the drug cartel.

He was managing a pretty good show of sneaking past them when his most persistent annoyance showed up.

“You’re way too Attached to that boy, son.”

Benton’s jaw clenched involuntarily, a clear tell that he knew the transparent blue figure next to him had to have seen. He always saw things like that. “Now is not the time,” he hissed back, peeking around the cargo containers. The scruffy set of Rhodians at the end of the walkway hadn’t noticed him talking to himself, good.

“It is _always_ the proper time to talk about letting go of Attachments.”

Fraser rolled his eyes, daring to glare off to his right. Hidden behind the containers – not that it mattered; Fraser was the only one who had ever been able to see him – was the impossibility that had once been Jedi Master Robert Fraser.

Jedi became one with the Force when they died. An impeccable Jedi such as Benton’s father should never be around as a _ghost_ , which Fraser didn’t believe in anyways, but there was still a damned persistent transparent, blue figure trailing around after him, spouting off annoying and unwanted advice under _far_ too many circumstances. He even had a cute little spiel about how he was doing something more advanced than most Jedi did, which Benton didn’t believe for a moment.

On the plus side, Fraser, Sr. wasn’t around all the time.

Just often enough to be annoying. He stood straight as a lightsaber, though now he glowed the same soft blue like the weapon he had wielded for decades. Dressed impeccably in tunics and robes, he was the very image of a proper Jedi.

Benton never felt anything but rumpled and unkempt when around his father, whether the man was alive or dead. “I’m sure you can see that I’m busy – ” 

“The Jedi Code specifies that one does not become Attached to beings, goods, or anything but Duty to the Order,” the ghost proclaimed at a normal volume that no one else would be able to hear.

Fraser shot his father’s ghost a glare. “Dad, I would like you to consider that maybe, _maybe_ if you are hanging around several years after your death just to remind me of the proper understanding of the Jedi Code in all its minutia, that _perhaps_ you are a bit Attached yourself?”

He couldn’t even get a rise out of the man with that. Instead of being scandalized or contemplating Fraser’s words, his father looked unruffled and faintly amused – and dismissive. “Nonsense, son, I’m just doing what any Master would do for his padawan.”

“I’ve been knighted for over a decade now, thank you.”

“That doesn’t stop you from being my padawan, _or_ my son. You might want to look out, they’re heading this way.”

As if he couldn’t feel that in the Force all by himself.

* * *

Ray had gotten a lot more used to getting KO’ed since the whole undercover thing started. He could already tell he was in a chair, binders keeping him in place, and he had one hell of a stun hangover.

Couldn’t figure if the echo to some voices were from his headache or they were someplace large. Somebody grumbling something cranky about Vecchio had Ray taking a sneaky peek, headache or no headache.

Yup, warehouse type thing, and some packing crates had been cracked open. He could see a nice little production line from the crate, with really ugly loth-cat statues that were getting stuffed with spice packets, sealed back up, and then repackaged.

Annnnnd there was an ugly Bothan looking at him. Matched Triask’s mugshots.

Looking _right_ at him. The Bothan stalked over, crouching down to meet Ray’s eyes. That wasn’t nearly as reassuring as it sounded – Bothans had fangs and it meant pointy bits really near Ray’s vulnerable bits. Sure, it was near his horns too, but Ray didn’t really have a good angle for anything other than sullen brooding.

“You’re not Vecchio.”

There was just enough doubt in his eyes that Ray took a chance. He plastered the genial grin on. “Last I heard, you thought I was, Triask. Which is it?”

It was a good gamble. The Bothan snorted in his face before standing up and turning away. “Hurry up! We’re liable to have another Jedi crawling up our asses soon, and we need to clear out whatever we can before we toss our Jedi into whatever’s left!”

...death by Spice overdose. Not fun. Ray had no idea what Vecchio had done to piss off _another_ criminal jerkwad, but one’a these days, he was going to _find_ Vecchio and have some _words_ with him. 

* * *

Triask’s minions had filled up most of the ugly statues when there was a sudden commotion at the side entrance. Ray’s immediate thoughts of rescue plummeted down to his boots when Fraser got escorted in, hands in binders and getting several rough shoves until he ended up in a rickety old chair next to Ray. There was the usual bad guy gloating, Ray tried to be cocky and sassed right back, and Triask stormed off to finished up the evac.

A few shakes of the head got the bells to stop ringing between his ears. One of the reasons Ray was often willing to take a backhand to the head was the horns – Zabraks were sturdier than humans, even Jedi – at least in the skull. Reinforced skull to go along with the second heart: always good to have backup.

“Ok, Fraser, so what’s the plan?”

“Well.” Fraser did that little squint around that meant he was either calculating odds, using the Force, or bullshitting like a champ. “I figured I couldn’t fight or distract my way in, so I let myself be captured.”

“Yeah, thanks, I figured that one out. So what’s part B?”

Oh no. Fraser did the head bobble. Please let that be the ‘I’m messing with you and about to say something weird and Jedi’ instead of him not being clueless. “I hadn’t really settled on the next part. I thought I might take a page from your book and improvise once I got here.”

Worst. Timing. Ever.

* * *

There were times when it was almost unfair how easy it could be to wind Ray up. Everyone seemed to think that ‘Jedi’ meant humorless.

“You know it’s just that Corellians have the kind of sense of humor that wouldn’t know funny until it jumped up and bit them.”

# _Dad, not now!_ #

That was effective as anything else. “Frivolous use of the Force, Benton, you know better than that.” The ghost of Fraser, Sr. stared around with a contemplative little smile. “You know, this reminds me of the time Buck Frobisher and I were caught by a tribe of Aleena that thought we were messengers from the gods. Admittedly they believed the only way to get the message was to eat us, but – ”

Fraser tuned out a story he’d heard approximately eighty-two times during his apprenticeship. Ray was engaging in the little contortions that meant either the binders he wore were around his jacket sleeves – something that had saved them multiple times in the past – or he was having a bit of a fit from all the Spice in the air. “Ray? What are you doing?”

* * *

“One of us has to get us out of here, and it’s not looking like you!” Ray squirmed a little more, trying to squish his thumbs a little closer to his palms because there was a tiny bit of give. It didn’t feel like it’d be quite enough, but it wasn’t like he was gonna just sit and wait for –

A roar came from behind the shuttle where the flunkies were loading the Spiced statues. Ray slumped back in the chair, letting out a sigh of relief.

Then he realized he was letting out a sigh of relief because _there was a gundark rampaging through the place_. “Y’know, you could’ve just said you were doing the Jedi animal buddy thing and Dief was gonna answer the mental com.”

Fraser shrugged, looking a little awkward and smug. “You know how he is. Sometimes he listens to what I say and stays with the speeder.”

“Fraser, it’s his ears that don’t work, not his mind. If I can hear you talking in my head then so can he.” Ray had to stop as the words he was saying actually caught up with him. “My life was a lot less weird before I knew you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say so, but in the meantime let’s get out of here.”

Without anyone to yell at or stop them it was easy enough to get the binders off of each other. They’d had, like, uncomfortable amounts of practice at that. It still took long enough for the smugglers to regroup, and blaster bolts were starting to fly. Ray ducked before the first few headed their way, then Fraser was hauling them behind some packing crates. There was that now comforting _fwoom_ of a lightsaber igniting, and Ray crouched behind cover while Fraser started playing ping-pong with blaster bolts.

“Some of us still use blasters, Fraser!”

Jedi didn’t really roll their eyes, but somehow Fraser could convey the impression. He reached out towards a nice blaster someone had dropped when Dief had started his rampage. The blaster shivered a bit, then swooped up in a neat little curve to smack into Fraser’s hand. He spun, deflecting two different incoming bits of fire, then tossed the weapon to Ray.

Perfect – uncanny – aim as always.

Since Ray knew how this worked, he’d taken the few precious seconds while Fraser was doing his Jedi Weapon Summoning trick to pull up his goggles. He kept a pair in his jacket pocket, and they looked like standard issue eye protection any idiot would wear in a speeder.

Ray just didn’t like admitting his eyesight wasn’t the greatest in the galaxy. It was actually shit for anything at a significant distance, which meant no goggles, no blasterfire anywhere useful near a perp.

The goggles went on, the HUD modifications kicked in, he caught his new gun, and in the next seven seconds a nice selection of smugglers went down for the count. Fraser went a little more on the offensive, bouncing incoming fire more towards smugglers than just away from Ray and Fraser. Dief kept people from leaving. Ray had a nice little blaster set on stun, and he was using it.

Good day to work for Judicial. They totally had this. Working together, wasn’t nothing they couldn’t tackle.

* * *

**Corellia Judicial offices**

Lt. Welsh was a worlds-weary Iktotchi, gruff and only about 70% done instead of the 300% he projected. Today it was closer to 300% for real, and most of that was due to Francesca Vecchio. Little sister to one of his best detectives, her fascination with a particular friend of her brother’s meant she got involved with Judicial as a civilian aide. Now that she was getting the terminology somewhere in the vague system of correct, most of the time, that was for the good.

Then somedays, she’d be sailing around, mooning about the impossible. Jedi didn’t hook up, everyone knew that. _She_ knew that – he heard about it at length some days. Didn’t stop her from wanting to ‘climb Fraser like a pine, y’know, because he, uh, yeah...Fraser’s a kind of...Fir. I mean there’s a tree named Fraser. A pine. Tree.’

It’d been a long week.

He was relieved when the front door to the bullpen opened, and a disgruntled Bothan in binders preceded Vecchio and Fraser in. Welsh let Huey and Dewey get in their 2 credits worth before he went to his office door.

“Vecchio! Just where have you been?”

Ray did that cocky little swagger like he was pulling himself to attention. “Outer Rim, sir. One Triask for delivery, just for you. We left his buddies in booking, I thought you might wanna meet him first.”

They’d been after this kriffing piece of shit for months. Oh yeah, he wanted to meet him. “Good job, Vecchio.” Ray had a few smug words for Triask that Welsh couldn’t hear. He wasn’t paying attention anyways. Instead he was giving their local assistance a bit of the eye. “You too, Fraser. You’re looking a little ruffled, though. You lose your cloak again?” There was a running bet among the officers. Fraser was Jedi top to toe, and somehow remained inhumanly impeccable all the time – the sole exception was when he lost the cloak. Even Fraser seemed a little amused by the only-somewhat joking comments floating around about it.

“Ah, no sir. We just had a little problem transporting the prisoner back on planet, and Diefenbaker – ”

“Say no more,” he ordered, holding up a hand. Whatever it was, it was bound to be outrageous, unlikely, and 100% true.

Fraser dipped his head in the funny little bow Jedi did as appreciation and acknowledgement. “Understood. And thank you kindly, Leftenant.”

* * *

**Corellia Jedi Temple**

Jedi Master Buck Frobisher was a true member of the old guard – competent, detached, and more than half-baked.

Well. Master Margaret Thatcher would never say the last bit to Master Frobisher’s face, but everyone knew it. Some Jedi just stuck around long enough that all the serenity in the Force couldn’t overcome the quirks of age. Master Yoda was another prime – terrifying – example of such.

Still. It was considered quite the honor to have such a distinguished, legendary Jedi visiting, and it was only proper that afternoon meditation be taken in the small gardens attached to the building.

Master Thatcher was a woman of action, and this sort of unregulated meditation drove her up a wall. Frobisher had finished before engaging her in conversation, and she had many other things she had to do. Paperwork, at the minimum, in her nice quiet office where she could shut the door and accomplish enough things that the Council would send her off this dirtball and somewhere that she could _really_ get things done.

“Do you ever feel like second fiddle, Thatcher?” Frobisher asked out of the blue, taking a sharp left turn from his confused monologue about Grand Master Yoda.

“No sir,” she answered absentmindedly, trying to sound like she was paying attention when she really, really was not. Frobisher made a small shooing motion to Knight Turnbull, who ducked out with a polite bow when a nod would have been more than sufficient, but that was Turnbull for you.

“Well, I think it’s high time you learned.”

“Hm, yes sir.” Then the words sank in. “Wait, what?”

Turnbull returned, bearing an acoustic guitar and what looked to be two violin cases.

Frobisher beamed even in the face of her disbelief. “You never know when you need all sorts of skills!”

She took a violin case with blank incredulity before Turnbull sat down to tune his instrument, Frobisher going on at great length about how once he and his partner had used music to do something implausible to some wild beasts somewhere.

She needed that promotion, and _soon_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Slight updates on 1/27/17, due to soldiergirl's very accurate call out of incorrect naming conventions. Thank you!


End file.
